


Freedom Ain't Nothing But Missing You

by kjack89



Series: The Story of Us (Fairytale AU) [5]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Crack, Fluff and Angst, Knights - Freeform, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 06:29:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2181471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/kjack89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which plans are made and personal feelings are something to be put aside in favor of revolution. Or so Prince Enjolras keeps telling himself, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freedom Ain't Nothing But Missing You

**Author's Note:**

> Usual disclaimer continues to apply for now and in perpetuity, which is really just a fun word to say. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

“I admit when we agreed to join the revolution, I rather expected slightly grander accommodations,” Sir Feuilly said sarcastically, leaning against his spear and craning his neck to look up at the massive castle they had commandeered for their purposes.

Combeferre shrugged, though he also smiled slightly. “It was good of Courfeyrac to let us use this place. It’s been in his family for generations, apparently, when the ‘de Musain’ line died out. And the Castle Musain is remote enough that we hopefully won’t be found until we’re ready, and yet well-stocked enough to perhaps sustain us until the revolution. So we'll have to forgive ourselves for using the trappings of monarchy in order to overthrow it.”

Feuilly started to respond until a gruff voice called, “Halt! Who goes there?”

“Courfeyrac, it’s us,” Combeferre called back, with a hint of exasperation. “We’re the only ones who left an hour ago at Enjolras’s request, and we’re the only ones around for miles. That was kind of the point.”

“Well, I still had to check. Not that I need an excuse to check you out.” Courfeyrac leaned down from the parapet, winking at Combeferre, who rolled his eyes. “And what do you have to report?”

Feuilly shrugged. “We only met with the rebels from two factions, but things look good. They’re eager to get things started.” He cocked his head at Courfeyrac. “Why are you on sentry duty?”

Combeferre snorted. “More accurately, what did you do to piss Enjolras off so that he assigned you to guard duty?”

They could see Courfeyrac’s pout all the way from the ground. “I didn’t do anything,” he told them with a sniff. “Enjolras merely requested that I take the watch, so take the watch I did. And it’s an honorable duty, being sentry and keeping the lookout.” He paused before adding an immensely self-satisfied, “So there.”

“And here I thought Sir Prouvaire might have gotten to him while they were together,” Feuilly muttered to Combeferre who just shook his head.

“Oh, no, he’s incorrigible. It’d take far more than even Jehan’s determination to wear him down. Unfortunately.” He raised his voice to call up to Courfeyrac, “Well, if you can abandon your ‘honorable’ duty for a few minutes, you can come with us as we make our report to Enjolras.”

For a moment, it seemed Courfeyrac might protest just out of principle, but then he shrugged. “Very well. I suppose the keep can look after herself for a bit, since there’s nothing out there anyway besides a herd of pegasi, and they make the most unholy noises when anyone they don’t know approaches.”

He climbed down from the parapet and joined Feuilly and Combeferre as they went to find Enjolras in the great hall of Castle Musain. He looked up as soon as they came in, his face drawn but his eyes bright. “What news?”

“The people are ready,” Feuilly reported instantly. “We were talking to the faction of the stronghold at Rue de Bac and—”

“And they’re on our side,” Courfeyrac interrupted brightly. “They’re all on our side, and more are coming every day!”

Combeferre elbowed him in the side, more amused than annoyed. “You weren’t even there.”

Courfeyrac just raised an eyebrow at him while smirking. “True, but was I wrong?”

Sighing, Combeferre turned back to Enjolras. “Despite Courfeyrac not being the one with magical visions, he is actually correct. The tide seems to be turning in many of your father’s strongholds, meaning that the time to strike will have to be soon. Your father appears not to have done anything drastic yet, but of course, if my visions are correct he won’t reach his own castle for another few days.”

“Yet another reason we must act soon,” Joly said quietly from his place next to the fireplace where he was sharing wine with Bossuet. “I fear for what your father will have in store for us when he does reach his destination.”

Enjolras nodded slowly. “I agree,” he said quietly, glancing over at Bahorel. “How are we on armaments?”

Bahorel scowled. “I wouldn’t know,” he said. “I was replaced on armament duty and put on stamp duty instead. It appears I can’t be trusted with weapons.”

Jehan glanced up from what he was reading and told Bahorel patiently, “You can barely be trusted with your own two fists, and those are weapons we can’t take away from you. I wouldn’t have removed you from weapons duty if you hadn’t have been using the enchanted swords to challenge everyone who walked past to a duel.” He looked over at Enjolras. “We’re doing well on armaments, though the smithees from Port St. Cloud are supposed to be sending shipments as soon as they can. They’ve cyclops blood in them, so they’re the best.”

“St. Martin is also sending weapons, and shields,” Bossuet added.

Nodding again, Enjolras looked down at the map spread on the table. “I only hope it will be enough,” he muttered before straightening to address the room at large. “I cannot begin to thank you for all you have done these past several days in our escape from my father’s clutches and in coordinating what I’ve been trying to do from afar, but we have more work to do. While we indeed must attack sooner rather than later if only to ensure the people are motivated to our Cause, we also cannot rush in without precise coordination. But once that coordination is achieved, I have no doubt that we will be unstoppable, not only in ending the tyranny of my own father but of any who refuses to surrender power to their people.” His voice rose in both confidence and volume as he went on, those gathered nodding and smiling as he continued. “We have conviction on our side, we have right and justice on our side, and we will not be stopped by those who continue to perpetrate despotism. And to ensure that we do, we must ensure also that our plans are foolproof. Which is what I’ve been working on…”

They all gathered together around the map as Enjolras went through the details of his plans, nodding in agreement and adding their own details when necessary. When they finished, it was with a far clearer idea of each of their responsibilities, as well as renewed conviction, and everyone headed off to continue preparations.

Everyone save for Combeferre and Courfeyrac, that was, who stayed at Enjolras’s side for further discussion. Enjolras glanced up at them and managed a small smile. “My oldest friends,” he said. “You have known me since childhood and stayed loyal even while I was in exile. You have not yet steered me wrong, so tell me truly: what do you think of the plan?”

Combeferre and Courfeyrac didn’t so much as glance at each other as they said in unison, “It’s great.”

“Truly,” Courfeyrac continued, glancing at Combeferre, amused by their synchronization. “I’ve been further away from the epicenter than Combeferre for many years now to keep an eye on my family’s lands and the people out this way, but your message has spread far and wide, and the people are itching for a change.”

Combeferre nodded solemnly. “My visions have confirmed that. But more importantly, your plan is more fleshed out than what I read in the note you sent to Courfeyrac a few months ago.”

Enjolras nodded as well. “Yes, and I apologize for not sending it to you, but I knew my father had been monitoring my communications with you.”

“Whereas I, an upstanding citizen of the kingdom and duke to boot, was a safe correspondent,” Courfeyrac added, striking a mocking pose as Combeferre rolled his eyes.

Enjolras looked as if he very much wanted to roll his eyes as well, but refrained. “Right. Anyway. Yes, the plan is more fleshed out. I had a lot of time to think about the minutiae on my journey back from the tower, and a surprisingly good sounding board as well, even if he didn’t realize I was using him as such.” At both Combeferre and Courfeyrac’s blank stares, Enjolras added, as if it should be obvious, “Grantaire.”

Now Combeferre and Courfeyrac seemed to be carefully avoiding looking at each other, and Combeferre said cautiously, “While I am glad he proved a reliable resource for you, do you think talking with him was a bad idea given that we had to leave him behind with your father?”

“No.” The word came out faster and sharper than Enjolras had intended, though he did not look abashed at his own tone, though he did soften it to add, “No. None of the details I discussed with Grantaire were enough for him to tell my father anything — ignoring the fact that I do not think he would. I trust him that much, at least. Besides, mostly I used him to bounce smaller ideas off of, since he was always willing to argue with me, and his arguments somehow made my own better.”

Combeferre still wasn’t looking at Courfeyrac, though he shrugged and acknowledged briskly, “Well, they did at that. I think we might be ready for mobilization in a week, perhaps less, depending on when we get the rest of the factions on board. And my visions seem to think that should happen very soon.”

Enjolras nodded. “Good.” He hesitated before asking what he clearly thought was a casual tone, “Speaking of your visions, have you had any of Grantaire? He, uh, he must be with my father, so visions of him could give some insight into my father’s plans…”

The excuse was a thin one, since Combeferre could just as easily scry for visions of King Jean, but Combeferre ignored that, his tone almost gentle as he told Enjolras, “I’ve caught mostly glimpses of him. He’s riding back with your father, and from what I gather, he is very much not there willingly.”

The breath seemed to catch in Enjolras’s throat. “He’s not…he’s not injured, is he?”

“No, nothing like that,” Combeferre assured him. “Though he’s flanked by guards to ensure he doesn’t run, I’m sure. Mostly he just seems very unhappy.” This didn’t seem to appease Enjolras, though he nodded slowly, and Combeferre waited to see if he had any further questions before saying, “Well, I’m off to coordinate the shipments from Port St. Cloud with Jehan. If you’ll excuse me.”

He left, patting Enjolras on the back and Courfeyrac on the shoulder as he did. Courfeyrac propped his chin on his hand and looked at Enjolras before saying plainly, “It sounds like you miss Grantaire.”

Enjolras flushed and looked away. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Courfeyrac sighed. “Please. We may not have been in the same country for a decade, but you forget I was your sole correspondent for quite some time. I know you. And I know you miss him. What’s more, believe it or not, you’re allowed to miss your husband.”

Enjolras flinched. “Don’t call him that,” he said, his voice harsh. “He was coerced as much as I into that sham of a marriage. Indeed, moreso. I at least knew what deception lay in store.” He paused before saying in a quieter tone, “But whether I’m allowed to miss him or not, I have to admit you’re right. And I never expected to. Though I suppose when you spend everyday with someone for six months straight it’s only natural to come to expect them to be there and to find it…disorienting when they’re not.”

“Disorienting,” Courfeyrac repeated, as if he couldn’t quite believe that was the word choice that Enjolras had chosen to use. “Right.” He cocked his head slightly before asking, genuinely curious, “Why didn’t you just bring him with you?”

Shrugging, Enjolras glanced down at the map, his blush deepening. “Combeferre and I discussed it and it just seemed the safest option, for him and for us,” he muttered. “Getting both of us out after our wedding would have been a logistical nightmare, and it would buy us some time if Grantaire was still there…”

He trailed off and Courfeyrac just pursed his lips slightly. “That’s a fascinating reason,” he said dryly, the tone of his voice suggesting that by ‘fascinating’ what he really meant was ‘bullshit’, “except for the fact that Combeferre is fucking  _wizard_ , and you can’t tell me that between the two of you, you couldn’t come up with  _some_  way to get Grantaire out of there with you.”

Enjolras’s hands tightened into fists and a muscle worked in his jaw. “Yes, we probably could have,” he said, as if through clenched teeth, “but we had very little time, and besides, it seemed an unnecessary risk.”

“However so?” Courfeyrac asked. “It seems to me—”

“It would have been selfish, alright?” Enjolras interrupted, lifting his chin defiantly, his mouth thin and displeased. “Bringing Grantaire with us would have served no purpose for the revolution. As much as I may have valued my time with him, he wouldn’t have brought anything with him that we don’t already have: philosophy, enthusiasm, dash, smile, melancholy, science, sarcasm. If I brought Grantaire, it would have been only for myself.”

Courfeyrac seemed surprised. “And what would have been wrong with that?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Because we’re planning a revolution. Selfishness is not a trait one should be bringing to a revolution meant for the people.”

Courfeyrac was quiet for a long moment before reached out to cover one of Enjolras’s hands with his own. “There is more to life than the revolution, my friend. Even for one such as you.” He stood and turned to leave, then paused and glanced back at Enjolras. “In the future, when someone undoubtedly asks the same question, say you left him behind for his own safety. It’s a far more plausible excuse.”

Then he was gone, leaving Enjolras staring after him, a blush still high on his cheeks, and when he looked back down at the map, he had to blink sudden, unexpected tears from his eyes to focus. He suddenly, acutely missed Grantaire, and not just bouncing ideas off of him. He missed their talks and the parts of himself that he had been able to share with Grantaire. He missed their arguments and jokes. He missed — he missed  _Grantaire_.

But there was no sense dwelling on that at the moment, so he gave himself a long moment to compose himself, to take several deep breaths and clear his head, and when he looked again at the map, there was no trace of tears in his eyes and nothing in his expression besides pure determination.


End file.
